


Lick, Drink, Suck

by Zoonr



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Drunkenness, F/M, MSR, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-14
Updated: 2005-05-14
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2669264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoonr/pseuds/Zoonr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulder, Scully, tequila, innuendo, games and resolution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lick, Drink, Suck

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted at my website zoonr.tripod.com in May 2005.
> 
> Also, thanks a million to my betas, boushh and Ellie. They took a break from beta'ing my novel to help me stay sane with this fluff piece and I thank them.

She needs a drink.  The room has a mini-bar and even though she usually avoids those outrageously overpriced items, there is a first time for everything.  A first time for cracking open the mini-bar while on a case and a first time for sleeping with one's partner.  Of course, the latter happened several days ago in Mulder's apartment, not here, but the memory invades every other thought she's had since. 

That's not good.  She's a professional and they're on the clock.

They were on the clock.  Mercifully, the damn case has been closed.

Scully pushes the door to her room open, kicks off her criminally painful shoes, sending them to opposite corners, disturbing dust bunnies, and she hurls herself belly first onto the too-firm mattress, bouncing slightly on impact.  This ridiculous case that Mulder has dragged her into is finally over, but not before losing three precious days of her life stuck with Mulder and their exhausting dance around the subject of what they had done. 

God, she hopes that Mulder didn't follow her, that he decided to head to his own room instead.  She can't deal with anyone at the moment, especially him.

"Hey, Scully?" he asks, rapping his knuckles softly on the open door.  She hears him step into her room and do what she hadn't had the energy to do -- close the door behind him.  "Scully?  Do you want to hit the blackjack tables first or take the lake tour?" 

"Neither," she mumbles into the comforter.  She'd normally avoid touching hotel bed covers with her mouth, but right now she doesn't care.  Dust mites be damned.

"Scully, this is Tahoe," he says as if that means anything.  She feels the mattress dip as he sits next to her feet.  "Our flight doesn't leave until tomorrow afternoon and I am not staying in the hotel all night."

"Fine," she says, her voice still muffled.  She's half asleep already. 

"Come on, Scully.  Live a little."   She feels his warm hand cover her bare calf near her ankle and smooth gently back and forth.  That is definitely a new move.  One that never would have seen the light of day pre-night-of-white-hot-passion.   He is trying.  She'll give him that.  And my, that feels really good.

*She* is the one who's been in a foul mood the entire time they've been working this latest case, not without good reason, but she could have made it easier.  *She* was the one who had crawled into Mulder's bed, asked him to make love to her and then left early the next morning before he woke up.  *She* is the one who is avoiding dealing with it.  Worse yet, she has no idea *why* she's having trouble dealing with it.  A physical relationship with Mulder is exactly what she wants.  They've been emotionally intimate for years and that is the natural next step.  She is just nervous.  Not about the sex, but about the future.

His hand feels wonderful, and she softens a little.  Flipping over and sitting up, she sighs.  "You win."

He smiles, his eyes brighten and he seems to accept her indirect apology.  "So, what will it be?"

"Surprise me," she says, still not exactly enthusiastic about a night out, but willing to force it if she has to.  She wants to make this work.  Wants *them* to work.

"Okay, one hour.  I'll meet you in the lobby."  He walks out of her room, closing the door gently behind him. 

Scully flops backward on to the bed and throws a forearm across her forehead.  This is going to be a long night, one way or the other.  She can't help but smile, though she's not sure if it's from exhaustion or anticipation.  Maybe both.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

They sit towards the end of the hotel bar, far away from any other patron.  Scully stirs her Cosmopolitan with a plastic stick.  She brings the stick to her lips and her tongue darts out to capture small drops of liquid.  Mulder sits on the stool next to her, their legs touch as they invade each other's space.  He watches her, wondering what she's thinking.  Hoping it's not what he fears.

The afternoon has turned into night.  They took the boat tour of Lake Tahoe.  It was beautiful and calming.  At twilight, they had dinner overlooking the lake and now they are capping it off with a few drinks before it's time to turn in.  Mulder hopes they'll turn in together.  His room is much lonelier than he normally finds it while on assignment.

"Mulder," she starts.  She takes a deep breath, hesitating. 

"What is it?" he asks softly.  He hopes she will continue.  Since making love less than a week ago for the first time, they've hardly spoken at all, aside from about work.  Partly that's because of this case, which turned out to be a waste of time, but he worries that Scully is having doubts.  He can't bare the thought that they may have ruined the most significant relationship he's ever had and can ever hope to have.

"Mulder, I'm sorry," she says finally, her lashes flutter as she looks down.  He touches his finger to her chin, lifting her face up, forcing her to look at him.

"I'm not," he says.

She smiles, one corner of her mouth curving upwards, "I don't mean about what happened.  I'm sorry for the way I've been acting this week." 

"Then you don't regret anything?"  He sounds a little too needy for his own ears.

"Of course not," she sighs.  "I didn't realize it, but I've wanted that to happen for a long time."  His hand continues to caress her face, alternating using the tips and the backs of his fingers.  He loves that he can touch her now.  "I guess… it just hit me how huge this is and I was overwhelmed."

"Scully, I don't know about you, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world to me.  I've been making love to you in my mind for years."

"Mulder!" she says, there is laughter in her eyes as well as a deep burn in her cheeks.  He loves seeing her this way.  It is a rare treasure.

"I don't mean it like that," he says.  She lifts a solitary eyebrow.  "Okay, I do, but I feel like our relationship transcends the physical.  It sounds cheesy, I know."

"That's very cheesy," she says, holding him with a straight face for a moment, before softening, "but I think I understand what you mean.  I guess I just got nervous."  Her eyelashes flutter and she sounds shy.  He loves that Scully, a woman who has faced down monsters and evil human beings alike, who has faced death and kicked its ass, can be shy. 

"Well, I know just the thing to cure the jitters," he says, locking eyes with her.  She leans closer, anticipating his solution.  "Lick… drink… suck," he says, his voice full of gravel and smoke.

"Pardon me?"  She swallows.

He moves his face in closer, his lips brush her cheeks on his way to her ear.  He whispers, "Lick.  Drink.  Suck."  He feels her shiver and he smiles.

Mulder turns his head, looking for the bartender.  He holds up two fingers.  "Tequila."

"Training wheels?" the bartender asks.

"Definitely," Mulder says, smiling and turning back to Scully.  The bartender places two shot glasses in front of them, pours each glass three quarters full and slices a lime into six crescent shaped segments.

"You want to do tequila shots?" Scully asks, the eyebrow returns.  "Are we in Lake Tahoe or at a college frat party?"

"Tequila, Scully.  It's not Miller Genuine Draft.  Besides, it's great for nerves."

"Because alcohol deadens them," she deadpans.

Mulder smiles and moves his face in close to hers, looking at her lips and swiping his own lips with his tongue.  "I guarantee you'll feel something, Scully."  His voice is low and she takes short shallow breaths.  He swears he can hear her heart as its pace quickens.  He loves this new role of his.  Finally, his innuendo is not hollow.  He can follow through on his promises.

"Mulder," she whispers, drawing him even closer.

"Yeah?" he asks, feeling pretty satisfied with himself for what he knows he's doing to her already. 

"The taste of tequila makes me feel like throwing up," she says.  She smiles from her chin to her eyes.  That was not what he expected her to say and she knows she got him. 

Mulder pulls away slightly, smirks.  "Thank you, Scully, for that image.  I'm trying to be seductive here."  Scully laughs softly.  "No more talking.  Time for licking," he says.  This time, both of her eyebrows arch.

Mulder slides one of the filled shot glasses towards her hand which rests on the bar.  He twists his body around and reaches for a salt shaker. 

"Okay, so we first take a drink, then suck on the lime?"  Scully asks, lifting up the glass, looking at the liquid skeptically, and sounding like she's reviewing an autopsy procedure.

Mulder reaches for her glass and takes it from her.  "Observe.  First you lick," Mulder says.  He licks the space on his hand between his left thumb and index finger and sprinkles salt over the moist spot.  He picks up a slice of lime with the same hand and a shot of tequila with the other.  "Lick," he licks the salt, "drink," drains the glass of tequila in one gulp, "and suck," he bites down on the wedge of lime, wrapping his lips around it, leaving only the peel exposed, squeezing as much juice as he can from it before pulling the remainder away with a soft slurp. 

"So, it's actually lick, lick, drink, suck?" Scully says, the corners of her mouth twitching.

"Your turn," he says.  He picks up the salt shaker and points to her hand.  She sighs, giving in, but her eyes sparkle.  She licks her hand and Mulder pours a liberal amount of salt over the spot.  He passes her a slice of lime and a shot glass.  She brings the amber liquid to her nose, scrunches.  "Don't sniff it, Scully."

"Lick, drink, suck?"  She asks.

"You got it," he says.  And she does, closing her eyes tightly as she swallows the tequila and clamps down on the lime.  Once finished, she opens her mouth wide and sticks her tongue out, letting out a breath, mimicking a refreshing "ah."  Mulder suspects it's more of an attempt to put out a fire.  She finally opens her eyes and he leans his face towards hers, chasing the shot with a kiss, capturing her lips just like he'd captured his wedge of lime.  He can taste the salt, tequila and lime from her mouth, and he thrusts his tongue inside her to get a better taste.  The kiss is firm and intense, but brief and he pulls away.  She licks her lips and he knows she is feeling a slow burn caused by more than just the tequila.  He knows he is, too. 

Mulder holds up two fingers again and the bartender fills the shot glasses once more.

"Mulder, are you trying to get me drunk?" Scully asks.

"Yes," Mulder answers simply.

"Well, at least pretense is out of the way."

"We'll do this one together.  What is it again?"

"Lick, drink, suck.  I got it, Mulder."

"You sure?"

She narrows her eyes and he smiles, challenging her.  She hesitates for a moment but then takes his hand in hers, turning it so that his palm faces up.  She grabs a lime wedge and squeezes the juice into his hand until there is a little pool of sticky sweet liquid.  He tries to control a smile, but knows he is failing.  She lifts the salt shaker over his shoulder and leans into him, pouring salt on the exposed skin of his neck.  "Lick," she says, and latches onto his salted skin with her mouth, more like a vampire sucking blood from his carotid artery than licking an ice cream cone.  He doesn't care about semantics at this point and doesn't care that her actions are clearly the result of fast metabolizing alcohol in her system. 

Pulling back, keeping her eyes focused on his, she lifts the shot glass to her lips, "drink," she says, and she throws her head back, draining it like a pro.  Something tells Mulder she knows a little more about drinking shots than she let on.  "Suck," she says just before her lips and the flat of her tongue are on his hand, lapping up the lime juice she had poured there like a kitten. 

He feels like he may explode.

When she pulls away from him, there is still a trickle of lime juice at the corner of her mouth and her eyes smile at him.  *He* knows *she* knows what she has done to him.  He kisses the lime juice away, covering her lips with his entire mouth.

"Your turn," she says when they finally separate.

"Screw the shot." He stands up, pulls two twenties from his pocket to cover their drinks and lays it on the bar, while at the same time he takes hold of her wrist and pulls her towards him.

The empty bar is suddenly far too crowded for the kind of drinking he feels like doing now.

"No fair, Mulder!" she protests unconvincingly as he drags her away. 

If he has anything to say about it, he'll have his turn.

^^^^^^^^

The door to her room is barely closed when she pushes him up against it.  Her breasts and stomach are pressed into his body and her lips assault his fervently.  Feverishly.  Frantically.

Her hands slide along his arms, over his shoulders, down his sides, skimming over his firm latissimus muscles until finally finding the buttons of his shirt, and pushing them through their holes.  She can't seem to touch enough of him to satisfy herself.

She pushes his shirt over his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor.  Their lips never break contact, they breathe heavily through their noses, each trying to inhale enough oxygen to support their lust, but unwilling to release the other's mouth even for a moment. 

She feels him hard against her stomach and she applies a little more pressure to his groin.  Reflexively, he thumps against the door loudly several times and groans.  They decide to relocate. 

They alternate pulling and pushing each other towards the bed, finally collapsing onto it.  Mulder is shirtless, but she is far too clothed.  So is he.  She blindly searches for his belt buckle, pulls it a little too tightly before pulling it free, then unsnaps and unzips his pants.  She kisses her way down his stomach, using her tongue and lips to create a wet trail towards his navel.  With both hands, she hooks her fingers inside the waistband of his pants, and pulls them along with his boxers over his hips and off, freeing him. 

She feels wild.  And more than a little intoxicated.  Though Mulder is the only one who's naked, her body thrums with anticipation of what is to come.  She smooths her hand over his stomach just above his coarse pubic hair.  She looks up.  He is partially sitting up supporting his weight on his elbows.  His eyes are glassy, like she imagines hers are. 

"What was it again, Mulder?" she rasps.  She lifts an eyebrow when he shakes his head slightly, not understanding what she is asking, so she adds, "Lick, drink, suck?"  Mulder gasps and his eyes roll back inside his head as she lowers her lips and takes him inside her mouth.  This is better than tequila.  He is salt and lime all at once and she begins to move. 

Time is muddled when she is drunk, so she is not sure how long she has been going when she feels Mulder's legs tense and hears him force out, "Scully… stop."

She doesn’t comprehend him at first, she is lost in her task, but he repeats the words.  "Scully, stop!  Oh, god, you need to stop, Scully!"  She releases him and lifts her head in question.  He smiles sheepishly.  "My turn," he says, reaching for her and pulling her up his body and flipping them over so she is on her back and he is above her.  Before she realizes what is happening, her clothes are off and Mulder's mouth is attached firmly to her breast.  His tongue swirls over her nipple, combining moisture and texture in delicious symbiosis.  But she wants more.

"No more shots, Mulder.  Let's end the game," she says.  He chuckles and releases her breasts.  She knows he understands her as he finally, slowly pushes inside her.  Their lips and tongues continue playing -- licking, drinking, sucking as Mulder thrusts his hips in unison.  The alcohol has warmed her from the inside out, but it's nothing compared to what Mulder is doing to her.  Her body is barreling towards release and she feels him close as well.  Moments after she cries out, he takes his turn and follows her.  They breath heavily, Mulder's weight pressing her into the plush mattress, every part of their bodies touching the other.

She no longer feels nervous about the future, though she doesn't feel much of anything at the moment aside from the glorious bliss of drunken post-orgasmic haze.  She feels Mulder roll off of her and wrap his arms around her as her mind closes down and she drifts, or rather plummets, into sleep.  Her last memory before unconscious takes her is of Mulder applying suction to her neck, his tongue flicking the skin under his mouth.  She hears him mumble something, and though she can't discern the words he's saying, she guesses it's along the lines of "lick, drink, suck."

^^^^^^^^^^

Her eyes flutter, once, twice, finally they open.  She blinks and is assaulted by a harsh beam of sunlight so she slams her eyes shut, squeezing them tightly, throwing an arm over her face.  "Oh, my god.  I can actually hear my heart pounding inside my brain," she says.

Mulder laughs.  He is hovering over her, leaning on one elbow.  He lifts her arm away and kisses her forehead softly.  When he pulls away, her eyes are open.  "That's what happens when you drink a bottle of tequila, Scully."

"You mean when I am forced to drink a bottle of tequila," she says with controlled humor.  "Why are you so chipper this morning?  You had just as much as I did."

He traces a finger over her cheek, down her neck, outlining her collarbone.  "I am big strong man," he says imitating Tarzan, "you are tiny woman."

"If I remember correctly, this tiny woman turned this big strong man into a quivering pile of goo last night."

"True, but you didn't play fair.  You went out of turn," he says.

"I was paying you back for your tactics," she says.

"If that is how you get revenge, I wish I had brought out the drinking games sooner." 

"I'm sorry it was necessary," she says, lowering her lashes.

He kisses her softly and smiles.  His voice softens.  "I'm just glad you're still here."

"I'm sorry you had to wonder if I would be," she says.

"No more apologies," he says.

She smiles and nods faintly.  "Okay," she says.  She starts to push herself up.  "What time is --" he places a finger over her lips, halting her.

"And no more talking.  Its time for licking," he says as his lips cover hers.

 

The End. 


End file.
